Tuck paled. He crouched lower, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the shotgun. He looked toward the sound of the voice, and even as he did so the swift red-orange spurt of flame etched itself high on the canyon wall to the right. The slug splattered itself on the rock a yard above the two boys as the echo of the shot tumbled in raucous confusion down the canyon.
"Get down," said Gary. He jumped up and then dropped. The rifle flashed again. This time Gary saw the darkness of a man behind the flash of the rifle, and he fired twice. He knew instantly that he had fallen victim to the instinctive bad habit of firing too low when shooting upward.
The mocking laughter came again from a different place. There was an eerie, haunting quality about it, as though it came from the lips of a madman.
Gary lay low. The quick sight he had had of the man had been long enough for him to see that the man did not wear a hat. He remembered the old saying of years ago in Arizona in reference to fighting Apaches. "Shoot 'em if they don't wear a hat!" It was a fair rule of thumb.
"Asesino?" queried Tuck hoarsely.
"I don't know."
"Who else could it be?"
They were interrupted by a shaky little voice emanating from the shaft behind them. "I'm scared down here," said Sue.
"I'm scared up here," said Tuck.
Darkness was swiftly filling the canyon. The thought of lying there in the open in the coming darkness with a madman stalking them was a frightening one. Ten minutes passed. Something struck the rocks ten feet in front of them and shattered, scattering shards of broken rock through the air like grenade fragments. A moment later another rock plummeted down and crashed five feet to one side of Tuck. He grunted in pain as a bit of the rock slashed across the back of his right hand. The laughter floated across the canyon and echoed back so that no one could say where it came from, so confusing were the echoes. The laughter was followed by the crashing impact of more rocks.
"Get into the shaft," said Gary quickly.
"We'll be trapped," said Tuck.
"You want your skull smashed! We haven't any choice!"
Tuck scuttled down the ladder. Gary backed up against the rock wall. He pulled up the nylon rope and tied it about Lobo, then lowered the heavy dog into the shaft. It was too dark to see anything now. Swiftly he lowered their gear down into the hole. He looked up at the dark rim of the canyon and saw someone flit past, then vanish. "Who are you?" he yelled. "What do you want?" The echoes fled down the canyon. "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? What do you want? What do you want? What do you want?" They died away to be replaced by the moaning of the dusk wind.
There was no answer. Gary glanced once more toward the still form of poor Lije Purtis. His last words came back to Gary. "I followed him through that cave way back there, at the water hole. I was goin' to ask him for some…" What had he wanted from the unknown?
The voice came clearly from the darkness, now to the left. "Asesino… Asesino… Asesino…" It was followed by that eerie, mocking laughter slowly dying away.
Gary wasted no time, He clambered down the chicken ladder, with the strong premonition that it wasn't quite the thing to do; they might be trapped in there forever. But there was no choice. He was confused and he could not think clearly. "Get back into the drift," he said.
The three of them stood there in the pool of light from the bull's-eye lamp. The draft played about them. Gary looked along the dark drift. "The draft means there must be an opening somewhere along there," he said.
"Somewhere," echoed Tuck. He swallowed hard.
"It's a chance we have to take," said Gary.
Tuck looked upward. "Maybe he knows where the opening is. Maybe he'll be waiting there for us."
"Cut it!" snapped Gary. "We've got guns! We can shoot too! We're not licked yet!"
"Hear! Hear!" said Sue.
Something pattered on the floor of the shaft.
Gary flashed the lamp that way. Silvery drops of rain showed in the yellow light. Faintly and insistently the muttering of thunder came to them.
"Well anyway, we're out of the rain," cracked Tuck. He subsided immediately when he saw the looks shot at him.
"Keep guard here, Tuck," said Gary. "I'm going to explore this drift." He walked to the pile of sotol stalks he had seen and gathered some of them, returning to Tuck to give him the lamp. He lighted one of the sotol stalks and started down the tunnel, followed by Lobo. "Go back," he said. He went on alone, following the winding passage, holding the flaring stalk high. His footsteps echoed on the hard, dusty floor of the drift. Now and then he had to squeeze under dangerous places where the props had sagged; at other times he had to clamber over piles of rock and earth that had fallen from the sides and top of the drift. It was reassuring to feel the constant draft blowing about him. The air was a little musty, but it was fresh enough to indicate that it came from the outside, no matter how far it was up the drift.
Here and there were the dark and narrow entrances to crosscuttings. Some of them had been filled by earth and rock when the props collapsed. Some of them were not very deep. The old miners had followed the winding of the vein, scooping out the rich ore wherever it was. So far he had seen nothing of the ore itself, for they had been thorough enough in their digging. He wasn't much interested at this point in the legendary tales of the wealth of the Lost Espectro, if this was indeed the Lost Espectro. He knew now that life was more precious than finding the treasure reputed to be buried in the old mine. Lead fever had replaced gold fever; the lead from Asesino's rifle.
The flickering light revealed a roughly squared-off room cut into the drift. Suddenly, Gary realized he had just enough of the sotol stalks to light his way back to the shaft. He peered into the room, saw that there was a further continuation of the drift on the opposite side, then turned back. He did not want to have to traverse any of the distance back in the darkness.
The last stalk flickered out as he turned the last bend in the drift before reaching the shaft. The light went out and he was in complete darkness. He should have been able to see the light from the lamp by now. He hesitated as he stared into the blackness, feeling sweat from his perspiring hands beginning to grease the stock of his rifle. Supposing something had happened to his two friends? Supposing he was now alone in that drift? Supposing somebody was waiting for him in the blackness after disposing of Sue and Tuck?
He tried to call out but his mouth was as dry as ashes. Then he whistled softly. Something pattered on the floor of the tunnel and he heard Lobo's welcoming bark. "Tuck?" called Gary softly.
"Quiet!" said the lean one from the blackness.
Gary felt his way along until he touched Tuck. "What is it?"
"We thought we heard someone up there."
Gary cocked his head to listen. The rain was still pattering down and some of the drops fell into the shaft. He was about to chide Tuck for a false alarm when he heard the scuffling of feet at the top of the shaft. He stepped back into the drift and raised the shotgun. Gravel dropped into the shaft. A moment later the eerie, mocking laughter came to them. There was a haunting madness to it.
This time Lobo sensed something. He barked savagely and then growled deep in his throat. Gary held him back as more gravel tumbled into the shaft. If that unknown made a move to reach the chicken ladder he would meet the full blast of both shotgun barrels. And even Asesino couldn't evade that.
There was a scuffling noise and something heavy dropped at the top of the shaft. Gary reached for Tuck and took the lamp from his hands. The scuffling noise came again. This time Gary chanced a light, flicking it up the shaft in time to see a heavy tree trunk fall across the opening and the quick withdrawal of a wet hand. He saw, with a sickening conclusion, that there were several other timbers already in place across the narrow opening. He flicked out the light as gravel tumbled down toward him.